


Cupidity

by orphan_account



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Cupidity, Gay Love, M/M, RageHappy, Tennis AU, joelay - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-24
Updated: 2014-07-24
Packaged: 2018-02-10 07:31:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2016399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is based off the sweet ice cream commercial about the two girls that fell in love- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xLTGbPI6hE0</p><p>Take Ray. He believed in the idea of love, just didn't know what love looked like. Until the moment he saw Joel. Joel Heyman was a rising tennis star respected for his talent, but famous for his beauty.</p><p>And no sooner had Ray found him that he felt his chances slipping away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cupidity

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! So I've been hella busy but this is a birthday present for my good friend Anna

Everybody wants to be loved.  
  
Everybody wants to be  _in_  love. But we don't always know what form love will come in.  
  
Take Ray. He believed in the idea of love, just didn't know what love looked like. Until the moment he saw Joel.  
  
He'd seen the poster while riding a bus home from work and realized it must have been new because there was no way he could have missed that stunning face before. "Holy shit." He had murmured, blinking owlishly at the dark, intense eyes that seemed so full of life, even for the paper.  
  
Joel Heyman was a rising tennis star respected for his talent, but famous for his beauty.  
  
And no sooner had Ray found him that he felt his chances slipping away.  
  
-  
  
He was amazed at his luck, honestly.  
  
When they'd told him he'd be a line judge for none other than Joel Heyman, he was certain that some sort of higher being was on his side, coaxing him towards his true love. He'd taken extra time to groom his hair and set off, a wide grin on his face and a pep in his step.  
  
When Joel had walked his way onto the court, his tight polo accentuating the soft curves of his figure and disheveled hair sticking out every direction from his sweatband, Ray was even more certain they were meant to be. Joel passed by him, smiling idly, and Ray blushed when their gazes connected, an awkward laugh escaping his lips. If the Titanic could be personified into eyes, they were Joel's: sunken and hauntingly beautiful, yet shimmering with the life hidden within.  
  
At the beginning of the match, Joel had been doing fantastically. Ray loved watching the way his arms moved with such force, body swaying and pumping to meet each return of the neon green ball. The real trouble, however, started when a particularly powerful drive had the ball zooming over the net, over his opponent, and....  
  
Ray gulped when he saw it hit just over the white line, and his voice was hesitant as he yelled the call. "Out!"  
  
"What? That was in!" Joel barked angrily, gesturing to where the ball was rolling carelessly towards the wall with his racket. Ray said nothing, hoping his look could somehow show how sorry he was, though he knew the distance was too far. "That was in!" Joel demanded one last time, those sunken eyes narrowing as he glared at the young line caller.  
  
Far later down the road, Ray would look back and realize that love stories always have a beginning; they just don't always begin the way you imagine. At that moment, however, he merely watched as Joel prepared to serve, his movements much jerkier now that he'd been made angry. He saw the ball make contact with the racket and had barely had time to register it was zooming directly at him before a sickening crunch of his glasses (or possibly his face) filled his ears and he was knocked out cold.  
  
-  
  
Sometimes, love just hits you right between the eyes.  
  
Ray was sitting in the doctor's office and he would have laughed at the handlebar mustache the physician sported were he not being blinded by the light shining at his pupils to check for damage. He resisted the urge to blink as the doctor finished, flashing him a sympathetic look, and took the time to look around the room. What stood out most was a full-sized cardboard cutout of a Mexican-looking man with an incredibly grumpy face, the words  _"Foot injuries... you can't just walk it off!"_  attached to it in a speech bubble.  
  
"You do have a minor concussion, so you should physical activity and please," The emphasis on the last word brought back Ray's attention and he dazedly looked over at the doctor. "Put some ice on that head of yours?" Ray nodded weakly and the doctor turned away before pausing with a coy smirk. "Oh! And, I  _think_ , they've got ice packs over by the practice courts." He winked, or maybe Ray only saw the wink in his concussed mind, before leaving him there.  
  
Ray didn't want to move just yet, glancing again at the cutout of the unknown man before finding his gaze on the television where a pretty blonde girl was reporting the newest story.  
  
"...He's been struggling with his serve as of late and today he managed to knock out an unsuspecting lines umpire." Ray watched himself get hit hard in the face, small body jolting back before falling limply to the ground, and groaned before deciding to get the ice he'd been told about to soothe his pounding head.  
  
He walked along the many empty tennis courts, head swimming slightly, but paused when he saw a single figure practicing near the end. Joel was hitting ball after ball, each either falling too short or going much too long, and letting out a scream of frustration with each continuous failure. He turned around to retrieve another, red-faced and sweat-drenched, and caught sight of Ray.  
  
"You're that guy." There was no anger or really any emotion at all behind the words, just a simply stated fact. Ray locked his fingers around the chain-link fence to steady himself, his voice caught in his throat. "The lines umpire I knocked out?" This time Ray looked down on his feet, mentally cursing himself for acting like a shy toddler.  
  
Joel sighed in annoyance and Ray faced him once again, afraid he was the cause. However, the older man was gripping another ball, twirling the racket in his hand, and turning back to his previous activity. "It's my serve." He grunted, apparently not disheartened by Ray's lack of reply.  
  
"I-it's... pretty... terrible." Ray finally stuttered back, his voice much weaker than was normal for his usually boisterous tone. Joel looked at him at that, a small grin on his face.  
  
"Usually people move." He shot back, and they both laughed quietly.   
  
"Joel! C'mon!" a new voice called, its owner a tall man with curly hair, glasses, and matching chestnut-colored beard approaching from the other side. "You gotta practice!!" He gestured towards the net across from them, and Joel seemed to hesitate.  
  
"I'm working on it, Burns." He mumbled, casting one final glance at where Ray was now retreating before lining up his shot once more.  
  
-  
  
When Ray boarded the bus the next day, it was to see that someone had drawn a crude mustache (remarkably similar to that of his doctor's) and goatee on the poster of Joel. He was staring at it with disdain when an elderly woman sitting a seat behind and across from him tapped his shoulder.  
  
"You're the one all over the Google." She gushed, her wrinkled eyes wide and prying. Ray's thick brow furrowed, confused, and ignored it. However, when he got to his second job as a waiter and several other employees began to tell him the same, he used his break to sit down and explore.  
  
There was meme after meme of him, each with stupid phrases or his head photoshopped onto something else, and he physically cringed at it.  
  
"You totally got followed!" His friend Michael interrupted his mortified browsing excitedly, showing him the video of the accident on his own phone. Ray glanced at it and groaned at what he saw.  
  
"Three million views?" His voice cracked and he almost felt as if he wanted to cry, the proof of his failure at finding love replaying all around him like a bad nightmare.  
  
On the way back home, he noticed that someone had taken the liberty of adding a mono-brow and crudely drawn cigar to the poster and Ray wondered how long it would be until Joel's beautiful face was unrecognizable. He heard a clicking and looked over to see a phone pointed at him, the owner of it trying to take pictures without being noticed. He averted his gaze, hoping to ignore it, only for two more people to notice him.  
  
"You're that guy!" A hipstery-looking girl a couple seats ahead of him turned to face him, nudging her male companion, and their smiles only annoyed him. The man pulled back his jacket to reveal a shirt with Ray's face on it along with a stupid phrase, rushing back to nudge at his side and get a picture he never gave permission for. He kept quiet, however (he felt like he'd been doing that a lot lately), and quietly glared at the shirt mocking him.  
  
-  
  
He used to feel so happy at his main job at the tennis courts, enjoying the fresh air and many different noises of players. Now, he felt bitter as he walked down the hall, the place becoming a reminder of his biggest regret. He paused as he passed the small doctor's office he'd been treated at, eyes widening in horror as he saw the cardboard cutout was no longer alone. Another one, one of  _him_  now stood beside the grumpy man, smiling blissfully with the words  _"Head injuries... Don't be a target!"_  coming from his fake mouth.  
  
Ray then began to understand that the more people recognized you, the lonelier it felt. He understood a part of Joel's life, one that not many people could relate to.   
  
With a growl in his throat, he grabbed the cutout of himself, tucking it under his arm and walking casually down the hall, an idea formulating in his brain. Just as he'd hoped, Joel was there. It was evening, artificial bulbs lighting the courts, but Joel was still there practicing and, unfortunately, still failing.  
  
"Psst!" Ray hissed through the fence, excitement and hope rising in him. "Hey!" Joel turned towards him, a puzzled look on his face, and Ray grinned before running onto the court.  
  
"Woah." Joel snorted sarcastically as Ray sat the cutout of himself up in the place where an opposite player would usually stand. Ray stood beside it proudly, slightly miffed it was much taller than his short figure.  
  
"I thought you could use it for, uh, target practice!" He offered, biting his lower lip when Joel raised his eyebrows at him. "I thought it might help your serve."  
  
Joel made a face, looking over the cutout. "The head is... high. I dunno.."  
  
"If you aim for my head, you can't miss!" Ray explained, remaining optimistic, and Joel twirled the racket in his hand absently.  
  
"...Okay." Joel bounced the ball against the ground once before locking eyes with the head, his muscles tightening; Ray trotted off the court just as Joel swung with a grunt, the ball hitting home with a clunk as it smacked the cutout's head. It fell and there was a moment of silence before they shared a grin.  
  
"Again." Ray said, fixing the flimsy cutout before moving out of the way. Over and over the ball hit its target and Ray set it back up each time, watching as the spirit in Joel's eyes grew with every successful hit, his movements getting more relaxed and light. It was the Joel he'd seen when he caught sight of that poster, when he'd fallen in love.  
  
"Break?" Joel suggested after a while, panting heavily, and they sat by one another on the bench facing the court. Ray took a swig of his water bottle before shyly offering it to Joel. The older man took it appreciatively and Ray blushed as his throat bobbed with each swallow.  
  
"Play me." Joel finally said, breaking the comfortable silence.  
  
"Oh no, no. I, uh, I'm really bad."  
  
"C'mon." He smiled comfortingly and Ray knew he was done for, his hand reaching out for the other racket without a thought even telling it to, and Joel's beaming grin would have made him swoon if things like that happened in real life.  
  
He flinched at the first ball that came at him, squeaking as he jumped away from it as Joel laughed freely. The next few serves were the same, and they cheered aloud when Ray finally timidly hit one that didn't even make it over the net.   
  
After about ten minutes more, Joel claimed he needed to sit down again to recover from all the laughing, and Ray huffed as they settled next to the cutout. He took it, producing a sharpie from his pocket, and scribbled a thick mustache onto his face. "Whaddaya think?" He smirked, showing it to the other, and Joel's laugh was heavenly.  
  
This led to a dodge ball fight with the tennis balls, one that ended when a throw nearly risked spiking up Ray's concussion once more, and they decided a nice walk would be best.  
  
Ray noticed that Joel looked at the moon a lot, at least when they weren't sneaking glances at one another, and the wonder in his older face was brilliant.  
  
"I have a place you might find cool." Ray spoke up and Joel hummed his encouragement to continue. "Follow me, yeah?" He nudged him before turning to the right and picking up the pace slightly.   
  
He led the player to a closed-off area, the two snickering at one another's attempts at hopping the fence (Ray was in charge of carrying the cutout over).   
  
"Wow. This really is incredible." Joel sighed, looking out over the large, lit stadium. "It's like a whole other world when it's empty like this. Like we're the only two people alive." He took in a deep, calming breath before flashing a smile at the younger man and slumping into the chair beside them. "This is nice, Ray. Thank you."  
  
"It's, uh, no problem. Really." He blushed when their gaze locked, debating whether to reach out his hand to grab the other's, when a booming voice made him jump.  
  
"Joel! What the fuck are you doing here?" It was the man from the other day, Burns he'd been called, and Joel hopped to his feet.  
  
"Calm down, Burnie. I was just taking a break."  
  
"A break? Joel, your big match is tomorrow! What kind of manager would I be if I didn't push you to get a good night's sleep tonight?" He ordered, glaring behind his glasses, and Ray shuffled awkwardly.  
  
"I should... go. I'll be late for my bus." He gestured vaguely, taking a few steps back and grabbing the cutout.  
  
"No!" Joel stopped him and Ray looked back hopefully. "Could you leave that? I'd like to keep it." He spoke softly and Ray couldn't help the disappointment that flooded him as he nodded and handed it back.  
  
"Now c'mon, Joel."   
  
"Jesus, Burnie, I'm coming!"  
  
-  
  
Ray was smiling again. He walked through the halls, almost bouncing, and a plan to see Joel before his match, maybe even ask him to grab a bite with him afterwards was on his mind. His face fell, however, and a sinking feeling settled in the pit of his stomach when he saw his own cardboard body shoved into the nearby trash bin. It was headless, oddly, and he focused only on the fact that Joel had so carelessly gotten rid of it. Didn't he say he wanted to keep it? Was he only playing with Ray? Had he torn off its head as a sick joke?  
  
He held it in his hands, staring at it with watery eyes, before the feeling became too much and he marched through the building in search of the man, leaving the cutout to fall to the ground.  
  
The fear of loss is stronger when one truly has something to lose; so when you do jump in, the fall hurts that much more.  
  
He kept his head down, searching for several minutes before finally giving up. Perhaps it was better he didn't find Joel, he thought. He sighed before heading instead towards the match, a glimpse of the filled stadium only making his heart ache for the previous night.  
  
"Hey!" A familiar voice, tinged with excitement, caught him off-guard and he jolted when he saw Joel approaching him fully dressed for the match and smiling brightly. Ray only crossed his arms, lips pursing, and Joel's expression turned quizzical. "What? What's wrong?"  
  
"Found a decapitated body in the garbage today." Ray sighed, refusing to meet the other's eyes. "This tall.." He gestured slightly above his head, fighting the quiver in his lip. "Kinda looks like me." Ray watched as realization dawned on Joel's face but did not expect the grin and laugh that followed.  
  
Joel reached into his backpack, pulling out a larger version of Ray's head, and placed it over his own face playfully. "I like the mustache." He chuckled and peeked over the side. Ray looked to the cardboard, Joel, and back again before giggling.  
  
"That's my face." He breathed, relief in his voice, and Joel snorted.  
  
"Yeah. It's really cute." He patted Ray's back once and they began walking towards the court together, their hands twining with one another easily and naturally.  
  
Sometimes, Ray decided, you just have to trust that love will find a way, just maybe not the way you imagined. Thousands of love stories happen everyday where sometimes, the most unlikely pairing is the perfect pairing.  
  
Thousands watched as Joel scored over and over, both in the stands and on television alike, and many wondered what had changed; how had Joel suddenly perfected his serve? Where had his confidence come from?  
  
Not far away, in a small doctor's office attached to the stadium, a mustached man with steely blue eyes watched the match and grinned knowingly.

**Author's Note:**

> Loved this shit? Hated it more than your nOTP? tell me why, tell me where i fucked up, i wanna hear it all! leave me comments and/or kudos, reading comments good and bad really brighten up my shitty little day ;)
> 
> Good artist? Bad artist? Never drawn? Make fanart anyways! I will cry. But happily. But I will seriously cry.


End file.
